by Desiree Holt
There was the slightest hesitation, and, for a moment, he was afraid she’d say no. Then she nodded, and he relaxed.
“Good. Listen. I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me see you inside.”
She laughed. “Marcus, it’s only about twelve steps to my door.”
“Still, my mother raised me to be a gentleman, so I insist.”
“Well…” She drawled the word. “If you insist.” She pulled her keys from her cross body purse and unlocked the front door then motioned him forward. He followed her inside and waited in the tiny foyer while she set her purse on the little table and dropped her keys in a dish. When she turned to him, she had a look on her face that was equal parts desire and confusion.
Okay, buddy boy. Take it slow.
“Well.” She smiled at him, twisting her hands together.
“Really well.” He grinned. “Even extra well. Best ride I’ve had since I got the bike.” He held out his arms to her. “Come here, Mary.”
He wanted a kiss. Just one kiss, to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. If she kissed as hot as she looked.
For a moment, he thought she’d refuse, but he knew he hadn’t mistaken the desire flaring in her eyes or the scent of her musk as she’d stood close to him. She took one step forward then another. Finally, she was so close to him their bodies touched. Marcus wrapped one arm around her and, with his other hand, cupped her chin.
“I want to see if you taste as good as I think.”
Her lips were soft against his, and warm. The touch if her mouth was electric, the heat of it frying his brain. He lifted his hands to grip her head and hold it in place, tilting it this way and that while he tasted and licked. She opened for him without any further urging and he swept his tongue inside. Holy shit! She tasted like every kind of heaven he’d ever imagined. He had a fleeting thought, wondering if her pussy tasted just as good, but then he lost himself in the kiss.
When he finally broke the kiss, he could barely catch his breath, and Mary didn’t seem to be much better. He stood there, his gaze locked with hers, seeing the passion flaring hot and bright in her eyes that glistened like polished emeralds.
Then his safety switch blew its controls, and a raging beast took over. In one movement, he had his jacket off her body, tossing it to the side, and her Pat’s Irish Pub shirt pulled up over her breasts. Wonderful breasts, nicely filling the lace cups doing their best to contain them. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the plump mounds, sucking in his breath at the softness of her skin. Beneath the lace, he could see her dark nipples taut and swollen, pressing against the fabric.
Jesus! He didn’t know where to touch first.
Backing her up against the wall of the little foyer, he cupped her face in his hands, threaded his fingers in her hair, and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were so tempting and full, and he was sure he could make a meal just on them. On the other hand, he could dine on any part of her body, a feast that might take him days to properly accomplish.
Don’t stop me. Don’t stop me. Please don’t stop me.
He thought he could do this forever, but he wanted to touch and taste other parts of her body.
Sliding his hands down, he reached behind her to unfasten her bra, slid it off her shoulders, and tossed it to the floor. Then he cupped those magnificent breasts in his hands, loving the full feel of them. He never moved his mouth from hers as he thumbed her nipples, back and forth, before taking each between thumb and forefinger and pinching them. Hard.
Mary gasped, her mouth opening even wider, so he pinched again. As he tormented those hard tips, he fucked her mouth with his tongue, wishing it was in her pussy instead. Did she like that, he wondered? Would she love his tongue inside her as much as he wanted it to be there? Would she love him to pinch her clit the way he was tormenting her nipples?
He finally lifted his mouth from hers, only because he needed to breathe. He looked into her eyes, the irises now a dark green, fringed by those impossibly thick black lashes. He was almost afraid of what he’d see there, but the heat and want and need made his cock so hard it nearly exploded.
She never said a word, nor did she try to push him away, just stood there, panting, waiting. So he unfastened her jeans, pushed them down her hips, and slid a hand over the flimsy fabric of her panties.
“Wet,” he whispered, his voice raw with need. “Your pussy is so wet for me.” He slid his mouth across her chin to nip at her ear. “You want my fingers inside you, don’t you?”
She nodded her head.
“Say it, Mary. Tell me what you want?” With his middle finger, he pressed into her slit, fabric and all, feeling the hard nub of her clit. “Say it.”
“I-I want your fingers inside me.”
Just hearing her say it made his balls ache. He didn’t think it was possible for his shaft to get any harder. He moved his hand so he could slide between her panties and her smooth skin, over the silken curls he felt there until there was no barrier between him and the hot, wet flesh of her pussy. Capturing her mouth again, he thrust his tongue inside, mimicking the action of his fingers sliding into her tight channel.
Holy fuck!
He pressed his thumb against her clit and moved two fingers in and out of her, the inner walls clutching him like a vise. When he thought of those muscles clamped around his cock, he nearly came in his jeans like a teenager. She clutched his shoulders, her fingers digging into him as she moaned against his lips as he thrust into her again and again.
Then her muscles tightened hard around his fingers, her entire body clamped, and she came with the force of a tornado. Shudders racking her body, she drenched his fingers with her cream, her musk floating up to his nostrils and making him ache with incredible need.
As her shudders eased, he slowed the movement of his fingers in and out of her body until he finally withdrew them. Locking his gaze with hers, he lifted his hand and very deliberately licked each of them clean. Then he ran his tongue over his lips, catching the last drop of her liquid.
He had been holding her body against the wall with his. Now, as her muscles went limp, he took a step back and caught her up in his arms, carrying her to the couch where he sat with her in his lap. Her faced was flushed and her breathing still uneven. He brushed her hair back from her face and peppered her cheek and jaw with tiny kisses.
Holy shit! What the fuck have I done? I can’t believe I really did this. Way to go, asshole.
Like a rutting animal, he had taken her against the wall using only his fingers to bring her to orgasm. He’d thought he had planned so carefully, taking her home on his bike, getting her aroused, working his way up to a satisfying experience for both of them. Or not, if the signals weren’t right. He knew time was short and he’d have to use whatever means he could to get the information he needed. He’d done it before and would probably have to again. It was a physical exercise, nothing more. That’s how he always justified it.
But this? Not his style at all. What the hell had he been thinking?
He had no idea what had brought her to Baltimore in the first place, but his gut instinct told him it had nothing to do with guns and gangs. He had planned to take her for a ride tomorrow, get to know her a little better. Work his way around to finding out if she had any involvement in the gun smuggling with some attention and good sex.
So much for his good intentions. Someone please shoot him.
There was something special about Mary McCoy, something he’d tried from the beginning to overlook. She just flipped his switch. How was he supposed to pry information out of her when he felt… What?
Don’t give it a name, asshole, or you’ll be in even bigger trouble.
Right now, he’d be happy if she didn’t just throw him out and tell him to stay away from the bar.
She lifted her head from his shoulder where she’d nestled it.
“Marcus.” She wet her lips, the sight of that tongue going straight to his already aching balls. “I—”
He
touched a fingertip to her lips. “Ssh. This is all on me. I didn’t mean to come at you like a rutting pig. I’m so—”
She touched her fingertips to his mouth. “If you say you’re sorry, I might have to kill you.”
“But hell, Mary. I have more class than this. Really. You deserve way more.”
She wriggled her sweet ass on his lap, pressing against his cock. “You didn’t see me put up much of a struggle, did you?”
He brushed his mouth over hers. “I had planned a whole different scenario, just so you know.”
“Oh?” She lifted an eyebrow. “And why was that?”
“I do know the meaning of a sophisticated seduction,” he told her.
“Maybe sophisticated isn’t what I wanted.” As she said the words, she shivered in his arms.
He realized, ass that he was, not only had he gone at her like a rutting bull, she was sitting here naked from the waist up. No wonder she had chills.
“Let’s get you covered up a little here.” He lifted her onto her feet and fetched her shirt from where he’d carelessly tossed it on the floor.
She stood there, a half smile on her face, as he worked her arms into it and pulled it down over her delectable breasts.
“Don’t work too hard at this, Marcus. I’m only going to take everything off so I can put my jammies on.”
An image of her in a sheer nightgown or flimsy pajamas flashed through his mind. If he hadn’t already been in pain, that would have done it.
“I, uh—” What, Marcus? She might find an apology insulting.
She moved closer and placed her hands on his cheeks.
“I think you should come help me put them on. And maybe at the same time we can give you some relief because only one of us got any satisfaction.”
He actually thought about it for five seconds, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to do it.
“That would be a bad idea.”
A look of rejection washed over her face, and again he cursed himself.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman here,” he told her. “Although it seems I’ve forgotten how. I may not sleep tonight, but this wasn’t the way I wanted to do this. I promise you that.”
She looked up at him, her forehead creased.
“Oh, no? What exactly did you want? I thought you were just taking me home on the big black beast out there.”
“Big black beast?” He laughed. “I like that.” Then he sobered. “I really do have more class than to go at you like a randy teenager. Did I want to get you into bed? Absolutely, but hopefully with a lot more class. So, how about a do-over tomorrow?”
“Do-over?”
“Uh-huh. I’ll come by in the morning. Take a look at your car. Take you out for breakfast, or lunch if it works better, and maybe a short ride on the big black beast. And we’ll take it from there.”
She nibbled her lower lip, and his poor cock cried out in pain.
“You’re only here for a short time, right? Just passing through?”
He nodded. “So if you’d rather not take it beyond tonight, I understand.”
“That’s not it. I’ll be honest, Marcus. I’ve never done anything like this before. In my other life, I would never have done what we did tonight. I guess you could say I was uptight and controlled.” She gave a tiny little laugh. “My friends were more blunt. They said tight-assed and rigid.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You? I find that hard to believe.”
“Yeah? Well, believe it. I guess what I’m saying is this is totally out of character for me. But I’d like to see where it goes. Maybe knowing when this is over we’ll never see each other again might make me loosen up and really enjoy…stuff.”
“Stuff?” He grinned. “You mean like sex?”
“Um, yes. That’s what I mean.”
“Okay, sweet stuff.” He cradled her face in his hands. “I can go with that. I’ll be here about nine in the morning, if that’s not too early. And we’ll play things by ear.”
“Tomorrow is Friday,” she reminded him. “I have to be on time for work.”
“No sweat,” he assured her. “I promise you won’t be late.”
She walked to the door with him, his big hand holding hers.
“You certainly didn’t get your share tonight,” she said again.
“I can wait.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Until I can do the whole thing with a lot more finesse.”
For a moment, he thought she was going to say something else. Then she just stood on tiptoe to give him a hug and opened the door. He felt her eyes on him as he walked the bike down to the street and cranked the engine. As he pushed off, he looked at her and waved. Thank god she waved back.
You dumb fucking ass. You could have ruined everything tonight.
No kidding. He could not remember the last time he had used so little finesse. Not even when he was just scratching an itch and certainly not when it involved an assignment. He was either losing his touch or he had no class. Neither answer appealed to him.
Only once they were inside her duplex and he pulled her into that kiss, it seemed all his senses and nerves went haywire. His control shattered, and he had to taste her and touch her and…
And what, asshole? You treated her like someone you picked up in an alley, groping her that way. You hardly got her clothes off, and you certainly kept all of yours on.
Well, that was important because when his brain settled down, he knew if he’d undressed, there would be no stopping before he plunged himself into her. And that was not his style at all. He was damn fucking glad she hadn’t thrown him out on his ass and told him to kiss hers.
But as he rode through the night, the wind kissing his face and sweeping up the cobwebs in his brain, he made up his mind to do better. A lot better. Starting in the morning. He’d make her feel really good, give her what he hoped was the best sex of her life, and work his way around to her involvement with her landlord.
But why was it, he wondered, the last part of that equation suddenly didn’t feel so good? He couldn’t afford to let personal feelings interfere with this. He had a critical assignment. He had watched closely every night as he sat at the bar, as casually as he could, to see if she slipped anyone a piece of paper. A business card. Anything.
But so far, nothing. And he watched carefully. Maybe she was just a woman taking a break from whatever her real life was because he was damn sure she didn’t spend her life tending bar. If he could figure out how to ask about that, it might give him some kind of clue as to her involvement.
People were depending on him, and he’d do well to remember that. Getting those guns off the streets of Baltimore and taking down the supplier was the most important thing. He needed to remember this was just an assignment. Once he left Baltimore, Mary McCoy would be history, and he’d never think of her again.
Right.
*****
“The only reason you could be calling me at this ungodly hour,” Karen said in a grumpy voice, “is to give me a really good update on Mr. Motorcycle. I take it this is a good call?”
Mary still couldn’t believe what had just happened. She never let herself go like that, let someone take her against a wall. And bring her to a giant orgasm. Where was her self-control? Where was her discipline? What on earth must Marcus Tyree think of her now?
Despite the hour, she’d picked up her cell phone and pressed a number on speed dial. She’d made it a point to call Karen once a week to touch base with her and tell her how she liked her new life as a bartender. Still loving it, she reported each week. For weeks, she’d had little to say except to talk about the people she met and the acquaintances she’d made. Not friends. She really wasn’t in the market for friends, people she’d be walking away from whenever she left Baltimore.
“Uh-huh.” Mary wriggled back against her pillows. “In spades.”
“What?” The shriek echoed across the connection.
“Holy crap, Karen.” Mary rubbed her ear. “You nearly ruptured my eardrum.�
�
“What do you expect when you call me at this hour of the morning to tell me things are progressing with Mr. Hot Motorcycle Jock.”
There was a pause, and Mary could visualize Karen raking her sleep-mussed hair back from her face and hoisting herself to a sitting position.
“You said you wanted me to call when I had something to tell.”
“And do you? Have you seen him outside the bar yet? Did you—”
“Hold it,” Mary broke in laughing. “Give me a chance here.”
“Deets, Mary,” Karen prodded. “Wake me up in the middle of the night? I want all the details.”
Mary laughed. “Right now there isn’t a lot to tell.”
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“God.” Karen’s huff sounded across the connection. “Tell me whatever you can. I wish you’d send me a picture.”
“Maybe tomorrow. I’ll ask him if it’s okay. He might not want his picture taken.”
“Why?” Karen dropped her voice. “Is he running from the law?”
Mary laughed. “Honest to god, you are so melodramatic. No, he’s not running from the law. At least he doesn’t act like it. Just like a man who wants his personal privacy.”
“So have you, um, you know, done it, yet?”
“Done it? You sound like we’re in high school.” She smiled to herself. “No, we haven’t done it yet. Just played around a little tonight. But, Karen?” She sighed. “A little from him is better than a lot from anyone else.”
Marcus Tyree’s playing around was better than full-out sex with many of the men she’d been with. Of course, they’d never be as hungry for her as he was, as desperate to touch her and feel her and…do things to her. He had pushed her up against the wall, yanked open her clothing, and thrust his hand between her thighs. Just his eagerness and need had turned her on big time. His clever fingers had worked her until she went off like a rocket. She didn’t remember ever reaching orgasm that fast or that intensely before, certainly not just by hand. As she imagined what it would be like with his cock inside her, the pulse in her sheath set up a strong pounding.
“Karen, it’s uncanny.” Mary closed her eyes, calling up Marcus Tyree’s image. “He could have been the model, only he’s…I don’t know…more rugged.”
